


A Crawling Beast

by gloss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 16+, Dysphoria, F/F, Fantasizing, Girl Penis, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Calliope isn't built for pleasure; this body is meant for duels and domination, but she has nerves and imagination. She has *needs*.And she needs Roxy.(For the Merry Month of Masturbation challenge; both protagonists are 16 years old.)





	A Crawling Beast

> _Again love, the limb-loosener, rattles me_  
>  _bittersweet,_  
>  _irresistible,_  
>  _a crawling beast._ \--  Sappho, Fragment 15

  


Her body is not built for pleasure. It's muscled and armored, spiked and clawed: a cruel thing from every conceivable direction. Nor is it entirely her own.

Her soul, it's said, isn't capable of love, either.

But here she is, a deviant, degenerate, freak, panting so hard her tongue lolls out her jaws as she tugs down her trousers. She was talking to Roxy -- sweet, soft, candy-bright Roxy with hair like fairy floss and skin like chocolate -- when things took a turn.

TG: im so horpy  
TG: *horry  
TG: *HORNY  
UU: oh my  
TG: guess u'd know all abt HORNS huh ;9  
TG: woggle woogle  
TG: *wagle  
UU: eh?  
TG: nvm  


That was when, at just about the worst moment, Roxy blacked out. This tends to happen when one's sole positive emotional contact is subject to the exigencies both of great distances of time and a hero's fondness for the void.

That left Calliope here, overrun by images of Roxy wearing troll horns. Beautiful orange and red horns, voluptuous and enticing, set on her head like a crown, and nothing else. She's laid out like a long swirl of taffy to cool. She's smiling, reaching for Calliope, offering herself. She's everything Calliope has dreamed, all at once, multiple versions and bodies and realities in one overwhelming fantasy.

Calliope gets the trousers down around her shins and slumps so her ass comes right to the edge of the chair. She spreads her legs as far as they'll go and thinks of Roxy, imagines heavy breasts crowned with hard, yearning nipples. Calliope will start out gentle with her, of course she will, lick those nipples with her forked tongue, back and forth, back and forth, until Roxy clutches at Calliope's skull and holds her close. Tells her to do it harder.

Roxy wants her.

Calliope tries to go slow on herself, strokes claws around the edges of her cloaca, coming closer, backing off. Teases herself, makes herself work for it, so she deserves Roxy, so she can fully enjoy. She tries to pace herself, but her mind is jumping ahead, rushing through a jumbled, asynchronous montage of desperate, delectable ideas: thumb and index claw pinching the underswell of one breast until Roxy groans; flicking her tongue around Roxy's clit until Roxy's running so wet Calliope might well drown; pulling Roxy up onto her lap, kissing her with fangs and tongue. Roxy's loving it, moaning Calliope's real name, arms wrapped around her neck, never letting go.

It's all made up, it's all a lie, it's delusional.

But she's too far gone now to stop, so she yanks out her cock. It springs against her hand, both rubbery and unyielding. The seminal groove is already welling stickily.

Roxy will never see Calliope, of course. And if she did, she'd shriek in horror. Brave little Roxy, braver than she knows, but courage has limits, and everyone hates the monster. Everyone flees.

All the same, Calliope dreams of seducing her. She wants to kiss the back of Roxy's neck, her mouth, her clavicle; she wants to tell her how good she smells. Calliope imagines a mammal smells hot like its blood, like soft-ball stage sugar syrup, steaming and sweet. She imagines Roxy tastes and smells like heaven, glittery pink jellybeans and thick dark caramel.

She wants to hold Roxy on her lap, slip a hand between her legs, finger her until Roxy's lifting and sinking, fucking herself in slow, perfect heaves, never breaking their eye contact. She wants to bury her hand up inside Roxy, feel it squeezed and superheated, until it goes numb, until it snaps off, until she's broken for her girl. She wants to bend Roxy over, spread her round buttocks, and lick her open from behind, work her tongue into Roxy's ass, sink it in there while Roxy rubs her clit and comes again and again, spasming and helpless, for Calliope. She wants to tongue-fuck her everywhere, wants Roxy to pass out from pleasure, wants everything.

Calliope jerks her cock, rough and fast, eyes rolling up in her skull. She bites her hard lower lip. She isn't built for pleasure; this body is meant for duels and domination, but she has nerves and imagination. She has _needs_.

And she needs Roxy, beautiful and soft and sweating now, hoarsely shouting for more, telling Calliope with every quiver and gasp and filthy muttered curse how much she loves her, loves this, how much she needs it. Roxy will beg for more, because she loves Calliope, because she's every bit as horny and drunk on desire as Calliope. Roxy is just as hungry for Calliope as Calliope is for her; they will devour each other, laugh and bite and suck each other dry. She twangs her thumb against the head of her cock and the sensation slides through her body like sheet lightning, slicing her up and leaving her even emptier, needier, desperate for more.

Calliope grips the edge of the desk with her free hand as she fucks her own fist. Her hips lift and snap, shove forward toward some infinitely receding, unbearably beautiful point. Claws catch and snag in the meat of her cock, make her yowl in fury. The pain fluoresces into something better and brighter, fireworks of desire, as she pictures Roxy sucking her off, taking this whole thing down her throat. She moans so pretty around Calliope. She's looking up at Calliope with shining eyes and distended cheeks.

Calliope's coming now, helplessly, free hand stuffed in her mouth. There's no one to hear, not for light years, not for millennia, but she bites down anyway. Everything in her knots together, tightens unbearably before flying apart. Come arches out of her in jets and curtains, splattering the wall, running down slow and thick.

She wants the aftershocks. She wants Roxy to be so wrung out from her own orgasms that she can't do more than giggle and fumble toward cuddles. She wants to hold Roxy, face to face, their legs interlaced, as their breathing slows together.

She wants so much. She needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Cherubs sure do have weird, poorly explained anatomy! I went with a crocodilian set-up for the genitals.
> 
> I have now seen more images of alligator and crocodile dick than I ever, ever dreamed possible.


End file.
